


When it Comes Crashing In

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [60]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Nighttime, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Your mind is mean to you, sometimes, and convinces you that Loki shouldn’t be here with you. When everything caves in around you, Loki is there to pull you out.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 17
Kudos: 191





	When it Comes Crashing In

These kinds of spirals came a little bit more often lately, but you found that you hated them more than ever. It felt like all it took was a single news story about something happening in the world and you were suddenly overcome with hopelessness. People were shitty. Governments didn’t care. The world was ending and people were too busy screaming at each other and fighting over nonsense to do anything else. 

Loki was great. Of course he was great. If he ever felt frustrated when he saw you sitting numbly on the couch and staring at the wall—because what was the point in anything else?—he never let it show. Not once. Instead, he’d sit with you for a while. He’d take your hand and study it, turning it over and over in his like he was trying to commit it to memory. Then he’d lace his fingers through yours and kiss your knuckles and ask you to do something else with him. That was an easy way to distract you, because there was absolutely nothing you wouldn’t do for him. So you’d put on your shoes to take a walk with him, or you’d get up and follow him into the kitchen to bake something together, or you’d unfurl yourself and lean into him so he could just hold you. It was hard to remain especially hopeless when he was smiling at you or playing with your hair.

But it felt so unfair to him. Being locked in your tiny apartment with someone he’d really only been with for a few months before was...a lot. This was like a crash course in all the shittier aspects of your personality, and he was more or less trapped here with you. With every side of you. You started trying to hide it. It took some effort, but you stopped letting yourself freeze in place to let the _suck_ of the world wash over you. You tried not to let him catch you at your worst. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. A global crisis was surely not the best way to form strong roots in a relationship.

Since you weren’t letting yourself wallow in horror, that grim and pessimistic side of you started creeping out in other ways. For a while, you started making more self-deprecating jokes. They weren’t always really jokes. Even you could tell when you were just being mean to be mean. It made Loki look at you with that worried look on his face, that crease between his eyebrows. You hated that look. You started biting your tongue more often.

So your mind cast about for different thoughts. Thoughts like _h_ _e shouldn’t be here_. Here in your apartment, here on Earth, here amongst everything common. He was royalty. He should be sitting comfortably on a throne. Ruling over a people who adored him. Being looked after by servants who were utterly devoted to him. He’d never had that, not even as a child, and it made you so angry. When you weren’t feeling sick with self-loathing and despair, you tried to give that to him. He liked it when you brushed his hair. You gave him massages, guiltily drinking in the sight of his bare back with its scars and muscles and savoring the way you could make him groan. When it was your turn to cook, you went all out for him, and when it wasn’t your turn to cook, you tried to do it anyway.

Your attempts made you feel better sometimes, but only until he started trying to return the favor. He’d light a hundred candles and draw you baths that remained the perfect temperature no matter how long you soaked in them. He’d put his fingers in your hair and play with it like it was the finest silk, all while goosebumps and chills ran the entirety of your body. He’d hold you at night like you were something precious, something that he couldn’t stand to lose even while he slipped into sleep. And what _were_ you? You were nothing. You were human. Barely a blip in his lifespan. Didn’t he deserve something more? Something better? 

It was hard to get out of bed in the middle of the night without waking him, so you learned to cry silently. Everything was wrong. Your self-loathing only grew larger, fiercer. Loki was here with you, looking at you with that softness in his eyes, and you couldn’t do anything but hate yourself? He’d never given any hint of a sign that he was anything less than happy here, except when you weren’t careful and he noticed how bad you were feeling. Even then, his unhappiness seemed centered entirely on yours. Why couldn’t you just be happy? Why couldn’t you let yourself enjoy this thing that you had no right to have, but which you had anyway? You were wasting this precious time with him on hating yourself, and that only made you hate yourself more.

Outside, the world was still burning. It was like society was crumbling. On good days, you told yourself that it was a good thing. The society that had existed before this pandemic, it wasn’t good for people. It was good that things were being destroyed. The dysfunction was finally coming to light, and maybe now you could all set about making things better. But of course your mind told you that it would never happen. Humanity couldn’t work together to stop the spread of a disease; of course you couldn’t work together to completely reinvent society itself. 

One night, you had a dream that should have been a nightmare. In it, Loki told you that he was leaving. He’d found a way to get back home, and they were welcoming him with open arms. He looked appropriately sad and concerned about you, but the only thing you kept thinking in the dream was “Yes. That feels right.” You watched him step onto what must have been the Bifrost that he’d spoken about, and even as your heart crumbled into dust, you just kept nodding and smiling at him. 

You woke up with wet cheeks and sobs aching in your chest. He was holding you. He always held you. Even in his sleep, his grip was firm, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you. You pressed your pillow against your mouth to muffle your ragged breathing. You had _everything_ and you were wishing it all away. So fucking stupid.

Behind you, he let out a long sigh, and then nuzzled your shoulder. You tried not to stiffen. Was he awake, or was he only stirring in his sleep? Had he heard you crying? Had you woken him? Everything felt so precarious, like maybe you’d been wrong all along and he knew how often you laid awake. He kissed your skin and you held your breath. 

“It was a dream, dear heart. You are safe with me.” His voice rumbled through his chest. He sounded so sleepy. You were willing to bet that he was only half-awake, and comforting you only because his body sensed that you were hurting. He tightened his arm around you in an embrace and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. You sniffled before you could stop yourself. If you hadn’t, maybe he could have fallen back asleep. But he heard you, and you felt him roll away so he could pull you onto your back. Sharp eyes probed the darkness, searching your face for clues. “What is it?”

There was too much to say. The words clogged your throat. You tried to shake your head, but even as you did, a rogue tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. Fuck.

He stretched out above you. If you were feeling normal, the weight of his body against yours would have been comforting. You always felt safe here, shielded and protected by him. Maybe that was why a sob wracked through you despite the way you tried to stifle it. He said your name like a prayer, brushed cool fingers along your cheekbones. He wanted to know what was hurting you. What would he say if he knew it was merely your own mind?

All you could manage for some time was repeated apologies. You struggled to keep your breathing under control even as you mumbled “I’m sorry” over and over again. You were apologizing for everything. For being who you were. For being human. For being completely unable to stop all of this nonsense. For how he’d been treated by other humans. For how he’d been treated by his family. For the fact that you couldn’t fix anything. For the fact that you were completely losing control and making him make that worried-face at you. Countless agonizing minutes passed with you trapped in all of your own shortcomings and those of the world that surrounded you. You couldn’t stop until he gently pressed your eyes closed, cool thumbs resting against your eyelids so you couldn’t open them again. Slowly, you regained control of your breathing, and then finally fell silent. Your face felt hot. There was no hiding this, was there?

“What on _Earth_ was that?” he murmured in the darkness. He sounded genuinely confused. Some sick, tiny part of you might have taken some tiny shred of pride in that, that you, a _human_ , could confuse him so.

“I know you shouldn’t be here.” It came out easily—moreso than you would have expected. Maybe it was because you knew he wouldn’t let you look at him. He had yet to move his hands. Pinned there beneath him, you babbled on about all the things that he deserved, the things that he should have had if things were truly just and fair. You described the beautiful palace that should have been his, the staff and nobles, the people. A steady stream of tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes. You knew he felt them because, now and then, he’d reach to wipe them away. 

“You’re crying for _me_?” It was barely a whisper. He still sounded confused. Surely he’d taken the time to consider the unfairness of his life, right? He understood how horrific it was? You could only cry harder. A gasping sob escaped you before you could stop it, and then you sank your teeth so deeply into your lower lip that you thought you tasted blood. “Precious thing. Darling, _darling_ thing. I don’t want any of that. How can you think that? I couldn’t stand it. Every last thing that you just described, I’d trade it all merely to stop your tears.” 

He sounded sincere. That only made things worse. You tried to shake your head, tried to open your eyes, but he still wouldn’t let you. “You shouldn’t _have_ to. I’m just—”

“No.” He cut you off, something he did so rarely that it made you stop immediately. As lovingly as he always spoke to you, his voice now held a sharp edge. “You are not ‘just’ anything. You are my entire heart. You are my everything. _You_ are the palace you want me to have. _You_ are the people and the beauty and the power. If I didn’t have you, I would have _nothing_. How could you possibly wish all that away from me?” 

He moved his hands to cup your cheeks now, but you couldn’t open your eyes yet anyway. He traced gentle paths against your skin, and it took a moment to realize that he was trying to wipe away your tears. When you drew in a shaky breath to apologize, he must have read your mind, because he pressed his lips gently to yours. He kissed you so sweetly that it made you shiver. He pulled back just far enough that you could feel his breath on your lips, and finally you opened your eyes.

He did not look upset. You had expected him to be worried, or maybe to be unable to hide the resentment that should have been burning in his gaze. But he wasn’t. He was looking at you softly, wide open, like he was trying to make you see how he felt. You tried to apologize again, but he only sucked your lower lip into his mouth. The blood. You stiffened, tried to push him away, and he moved to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve apologized enough, I think.” His lips moved against you when he spoke. “No more, darling. Let me show you what you are to me. Alright?”

He studied your face, searching for your permission. You drew in another shaky breath and allowed yourself to nod.

When he smiled, it was like a sunrise.


End file.
